


4 O'clock

by GeneratorCat



Series: JayTim Week 2017- Summer Edition [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: And kinda sweet, Healing, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's kinda sad, M/M, and kinda funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11608278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: Behind him the world outside is dim and soft and sweet, and Jason thinks that Tim fits here, now, at 4 o’clock. In this nebulous time when the world isn’t supposed to be anything yet, and yet it is it’s own entity. Tim belongs in this secret time that doesn’t demand or expect a damn thing, that just is and will let him just be.Then he shakes his head because he doesn’t actually know Tim, and he’s getting poetical and presumptuous about a kid he’s just met.





	4 O'clock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnamon_skull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_skull/gifts).



> For JayTim week, day two: summer job
> 
> Inspired by [4 O’clock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kH8-LxuUCqQ) by bts and my darling cinnamonskull <3 I think this will be right up your alley :D

 

Jason has just finished mopping the floor when a kid comes rolling in- literally, rolling in on his wheelies, tracking a line of dirt across the otherwise shiny checkered tile.

“What the fuck,” Jason says, flat and dead in a way you can only be at the tail end of the night shift.

“Oh.” The kid looks at the mess behind him, then at the mop in Jason’s hand. “Sorry.”

Jason sighs until every molecule of air has left his lungs.

He counts to seven.

Mumbles, “It’s fine,” and starts to push the mop across the sullied tiles. Again. They’re black and white- well, almost white. Years of wear have made them dingy in a way that daily cleaning just can’t prevent after so long.

But then the mop is being taken from his hands, and he’s tired enough to let it happen. The boy shoves lanky black hair out of his eyes and gives a stilted half-smile. “I got it,” he says.

“It’s my job,” Jason protests, but he doesn’t move to stop him as he cleans up. He stands there watching, The Everly Brothers harmonising overhead, while the kid finishes and returns the mop to the bucket.

“Thanks.”

The boy nods and slides into the booth at the back of the diner, back to the wall. Facing the door. He curls up with his feet on the bench and knees tucked against his chest, pale skin showing through the holes in his jeans.  

Jason rolls the bucket back behind the counter and grabs a laminated menu and a set of silverware. He takes them over to the table and lays them out. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Coffee, please.”

“Comin’ right up.” Setting a fresh pot to brew, Jason leans against the counter and looks out the wide windows that make up the front wall of the restaurant. It’s not yet dawn, but not still nighttime either. The sky is that certain shade of purple that smells like honey and grass and wet, sits on your skin like dew drops. Jason has always liked this part of the morning. It feels safe, nostalgic. Hopeful.

He’d still rather be in bed, though.

Pouring two mugs of coffee, Jason leaves one on the counter for himself and carries the other to the kid, setting it down in front of him.  

The guy uncurls enough to grab the mug and bring the ceramic to his lips, regardless of the searing heat.

“Know what you want?”

“Chocolate chip waffle,” he answers, not looking at the menu that hasn’t moved from where Jason set it down.

With a nod Jason takes the menu and moves back behind the counter that separates the kitchen area from the rest of the diner. It’s otherwise open and the customers can watch as Jason makes the food. Well. Customer. It’s just the kid right now.

Just the kid and Jason.

Because most rational people aren’t awake at four in the morning.

He makes the waffle and delivers it, then sits down on one of the stools lining the counter and sips his coffee, listening to the music pouring out of the old jukebox in the corner, waiting for his shift to end.

The kid barely picks at his food, but leaves a twenty dollar bill on the table for a six dollar check.

~

The next night- morning- whatever- the guy shows up again, this time without tracking in mud.

This time, he’s holding a kitten.

A tiny black thing with huge green eyes that looks up at Jason from the crook of the guy’s elbow when he brings over a menu and silverware.

“Cute cat,” Jason says, ignoring the fact that there’s an animal in the restaurant and that’s probably against some rule or another. There’s no one else here to care about it.

“It’s not mine,” the boy replies, taking some napkins from the dispenser and gently wiping at the kitten’s head and back. The napkins come away damp and dirty. “Found it outside.”

“You gonna keep her?”

“I'm not really…” He shrugs. “I can barely take care of myself, I shouldn't be responsible for another lifeform. You know?”

“So what will you do with her?”

“Take her to a shelter, I guess,” he answers softly.

“Hm. Um, what can I get you?”

The boy looks up with a question in his eyes, and Jason waves his yellow order pad.

“Oh, right. Coffee and a chocolate chip waffle.”

Jason comes back with the food for him and also a little bowl of milk and plate of ham slices for the cat.

“Thanks,” the kid says, surprised. He sets the cat on the table in front of her dinner, and she gives it a cursory sniff before digging in.

Jason says, “I know someone who might want her.” He's pretty sure Selena has close to a dozen cats by now, but she wouldn't turn away another stray.

“You?”

Jason blinks. Looks down at the cat, nibbling on a piece of ham the size of her face. He's never had a pet before. He won't have that much free time when his classes start up again, but cats don't need that much attention, he's pretty sure. It'd be nice to have something to cuddle up next to. And she is pretty cute.

“Yeah,” he decides. “I'll take her.”

“Awesome, thank you…” the kid glances down to his name tag, “Bobby.”

“What? Oh, no, my name's Jason. I just started a few days ago and they haven't ordered my tag yet.”

“Jason, then.” The kid gulps down half of his coffee. “What’re you gonna name it,” he asks, pointing at the cat, who has drops of milk in her whiskers.

“I dunno. Maybe I should name her after you, since you saved her.”

“Is that your way of asking for my name?”

Jason shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Smooth,” he drawls, one eyebrow raised. He stares at Jason for a moment and then, “It's Tim.”

Jason gently pets his new cat. “Hi there, Tim.”

“You talking to me or the cat?”

Jason grins but doesn't answer, instead asking, “Want a refill?”

~

“How's Tim?” Tim asks.

Jason looks up from his crossword puzzle. The harsh overhead lighting catches on the lines of Tim’s face, and he looks so young and tired. More so than usual.

Behind him the world outside is dim and soft and sweet, and Jason thinks that Tim fits here, now, at 4 o’clock. In this nebulous time when the world isn’t supposed to be anything yet, and yet it is its own entity. Tim belongs in this secret time that doesn’t demand or expect a damn thing, that just is and will let him just be.

Then he shakes his head because he doesn’t actually know Tim, and he’s getting poetical and presumptuous about a kid he’s just met.

“She’s great. I think.”

“You aren’t sure?” Tim takes a seat on one of the stools at the counter.

“I don’t know anything about cats. I got her food and toys,” the ones Selena had recommended, “so I guess she’s happy.”

“Has she ripped up any of your stuff yet?”

“No.”

“Then she’s happy.”

“Oh, good. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Waffle?”

“Good memory.”

“You’re my only customer at this time, it’s not hard to remember.”

Jason turns to the waffle griddle. He can feel Tim’s eyes on his back.

He doesn’t mind.

Tim asks, “You gonna be stuck on the night shift for a while?” as Jason sets down his food.

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“Sucks,” Tim offers around a bite of food. There’s a smudge of chocolate on his lip.

“I don’t mind too much.” Jason tops off his coffee. “It’s not easy getting a job in the summer; so many kids out there looking for the same thing.”

Tim gives a thoughtful hum, like this had never occurred to him before, and right then Jason decides Tim is well-off enough to never have had to worry about employment. Sure he’s young, probably still in high school, but Jason’s been hunting down work since he was twelve.

“There are a lot worse things I could be doing,” Jason adds.

Tim nods. Even if he has no experience with working, he at least has an idea of the less savory side of the city. All Gothamites do.

“What about you,” Jason asks. “What are you doing out at...” he checks the clock on the back wall, “four twenty-two?”

Tim swallows and licks his lips. He misses the chocolate. “Coffee taste best before the sunrise.”

Jason waits a beat for… something. A better explanation. But Tim just sips his shit coffee- because it is shit, probably the worst coffee in the city- and matches Jason’s stare.

“Alright,” Jason finally says.

Tim actually finishes his food.

He leaves a twenty again.

~

Tim’s shirt says, _ask me about the double D_.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for the type,” Jason says, pouring a mug of coffee.

“Really?” Tim tucks his hair behind his ear. “Most people aren’t surprised. You play?”

“I’m… not at that level. Just one d is good for me.”

Tim frowns. “What? How do you have just one d?”

Now Jason frowns. “I mean, most people just have one.”

Tim stares at him.

“I think we might not be talking about the same thing,” Jason guesses. “What’s the double d?”

“ _Dungeons and Dragons_ ,” Tim answers.

“Oh.” Jason scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, no, that’s not what I was talking about.”

“What were-” Tim stops, mouth open. Then, “Oh.”

Jason feels himself go red, his cheeks burning.

Tim laughs.

~

Patsy Cline is playing. Jason sings along.

He and Tim haven’t spoken to each other. He knew immediately when Tim walked in and tucked himself into the corner booth that today was not a day for talking.

But Tim doesn’t seem to mind Jason’s singing.

Tim stays there, silent, for over an hour. He leaves his breakfast on the table, untouched, along with the usual twenty dollar bill.

~

Rain _drip drop patters_ against the windows, underplaying the music falling from the outdated speakers. The sky is dark, grey. If the rain keeps up it won’t turn blue at all, just a lighter grey under the rain clouds.

Tim shuffles into the diner like a soaked stray, water dripping from his oversized flannel shirt and torn jeans. He leaves a trail from the door to the counter. No mud, though. He sits. His hair is plastered to his cheeks, and he drags it back out of his face.

“Today is a day for hash browns,” he announces.

“Why?”

“It just is, Jason.”

“Right, okay. Want anything in them?”

“Mushrooms.”

“No, you don’t.” Jason shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t want our mushrooms.”

“Jalapenos?”

“Those are fine.”

“Cool.”

Jason makes another serving for himself and comes around to sit next to Tim, who starts, stares at him, but with distant eyes and Jason gets the feeling Tim isn’t really seeing him.

Then Tim blinks, and offers a small smile.

They eat quietly for a few minutes.

Eventually Tim asks, “So you’re just working here for the summer?”

“Depends on what hours I can manage after classes start. I’ll still need a job, it just might not be here.”

“I hope you stay,” Tim says. “Other people that work this shift aren’t as fun as you.”

“How long have you been coming in here in the middle of the night?”

Tim shrugs. “Always.”

He shifts, and his foot bumps against Jason’s under the table. He doesn’t move, or say anything about it.

Neither does Jason.

~

“Eat your food, Tim.”

“Not hungry.”

“Then why’d you order it?”

“Because that’s what we do.”

“We?”

“I. That’s what I do. Four o’clock is the time for chocolate chip waffles.”

“Except when it’s raining.”

“That’s right.”

~

“There's cat hair all over your shirt.”

“There's cat hair all over my _life_.” On his clothes, on his couch, in the air he breathes.

In his cereal.

Stretching across the counter, Tim reaches out and brushes black fur from Jason’s sleeve. His fingers graze Jason’s skin.

“Sorry,” Tim says, lowering his arm.

“You’re not the one shedding everywhere in my apartment.”

Tim grins. “Maybe I am. Maybe I sneak in at night and dump cat hair on all your stuff.”

“Hm. If that’s true then next time you break in can you take a look around for my headphones? I can’t find them.”

Tim says, “Will do,” and shoots fingers guns at him.

It’s possibly the lamest thing Jason’s ever seen.

He loves it.

~

Tim always leaves before the sun rises.

~

Jason asks, “Don’t you get tired of eating the same thing every day?”

“Sometimes.”

“Then why do it?”

Tim shrugs, and looks away.

“Why don’t you try something different today?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just. I have to have a waffle.”

“Okay.” Jason watches the way Tim’s right hand grabs his left forearm, nails digging into his skin. “Okay, how about I bring you something with the waffle?”

Tim looks up him.

“It doesn’t just have to be a waffle, right? You can still have that, plus some eggs and bacon or whatever.”

Tim’s eyes drift across the table, like he expects to see someone else sitting there.

“Yeah,” he says, eventually. “That’d be okay.”

When Jason brings his food- two plates this time- he notices Tim has let go of his arm, leaving behind faint marks.

“Thanks,” Tim says softly.

Jason nods and walks away, spending the time restocking straws and jelly packets and surreptitiously keeping an eye in Tim, who eats solemnly.

~

Tim orders a waffle and two eggs, scrambled, and two strips of bacon, burned. Then he asks, “You wanna eat with me?”

Jason smiles. He’s done it before, a lot of times actually, but this is the first time Tim has invited him, and it feels like a big moment, even if he doesn’t know exactly why.

~

“Waffle, eggs, and bacon?”

“No. Surprise me.”

“Oh, feeling adventurous today, are we?”

“Yes,” Tim says very seriously.

Then he grins like a dork.

Jason brings a waffle and two cheeseburgers, one for himself.

The sound Tim makes when he bites into his burger has Jason pausing, food raised halfway to his mouth. Tim groans again, “This is _so good_.”

Jason swallows nothing. His “Yeah,” comes out weak.

~

Tim walks into the diner and announces, “I wanna try grits!”

Jason tucks his book away under the counter. “You’ve never had grits?”

“Nope!”

~

Tim sets down his fork and announces, “I hate grits!”

He looks so happy about it.

Jason laughs.

~

Sliding into the booth across from Tim, Jason sets down a plate of chicken fried steak.

Tim eyes it eagerly.

“So when do you sleep?”

“Huh?” Tim grunts, stuffing his mouth.

“Are you, like, nocturnal? Sleep during the day?”

Tim chews, swallows. “Don’t sleep much.”

Jason sips his orange juice. “School’s gonna start up again soon.”

Tim nods absently. “Senior year,” he says, twirling his fork around in the air. “Woo.”

“Will I still see you then?”

“If you’re still working here.”

Jason wasn’t really planning on it actually, but he’s gonna try and make it work.

~

“Tim’s grown a lot. She’s almost bigger than my hand now.”

Tim reaches across the table and grabs Jason’s hand, inspecting it.

Jason lets him.

“That’s pretty big,” Tim says, holding up his hand against Jason’s to compare. His hand is cold and surprisingly rough.

He presses their palms together.

Tim coughs. “The cat, I mean. Big cat. ‘Cause she was so small before.”

“Small,” Jason agrees. The tips of his fingers curl slightly over Tim’s.

They stay like that until the jukebox flips over to the next track.

~

Tim’s not supposed to be here, Jason decides.

He’s waiting for the bacon to get nice and crispy, looking over to where Tim is stacking the sugar packets into a house. Behind him the world outside is hazy and muted and sticky, and Jason thinks that Tim fits too well here, now, at 4 o’clock. In this nebulous time when the world isn’t allowed to be anything yet. Tim shouldn’t belong in this secret time that doesn’t demand or expect anything, that just is and will let him just be.

No one is supposed to stay here. The world wakes up. The sun shines. People live their lives.

He thinks Tim’s been here too long.

Tim’s been drowning in purple honey and dew drops and passivity.

~

Jason brings Tim a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich and coffee.

He doesn’t tell him it’s decaf.

Tim doesn’t say anything.

He also doesn’t mention the fact that there’s no waffle, but he tugs at his hair with white knuckles and won’t look at Jason.

~

Sometimes Jason brings a waffle and sometimes he doesn’t.

Tim is quiet on those days.

~

Sometimes Jason brings a waffle and sometimes he doesn’t.

Tim asks Jason to sit with him on those days.

~

Sometimes Jason brings a waffle and sometimes he doesn’t.

Tim asks Jason to sit with him either way.

~

Sometimes Jason brings a waffle and sometimes he doesn’t.

Tim is rarely quiet any more.

~

One day- night- whatever- Tim doesn’t come in at all.

Jason watches the sun rise, wondering if Tim is doing the same, somewhere.

~

Jason walks out of the diner at seven fourteen, feet sore. He blinks at the early morning sunlight.

He turns to head down the sidewalk and stops, blinks again, this time at Tim, who’s leaning on the yellow painted brick of the restaurant, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Hey,” Jason says. He’s never seen Tim in natural light.

He looks better this way.

“I went to the park.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s not much open at four in the morning. Even in Gotham.”

Jason doesn’t ask why Tim doesn't want to be at home in four in the morning. Maybe someday, but not today.

“Did you like it?”

“I was bored. And hungry.” He bites his lip. “But it was good.”

“I can make you some breakfast,” Jason offers.

Tim glances at the door, and then quickly away.

“At my place.”

Tim’s eyes snap to his. “Your...”

“I think I have some cereal left.” Jason shrugs. “And you could say hi to Tim.”

There’s a pigeon over their heads, tweeting and cooing from the nest it built in one of the letters of the diner’s sign.

Slowly, Tim nods. “Okay.”

A smile tugs at his lips. A breeze tugs at his hair, and sunlight shines on his cheeks. “Okay,” he says again.

Jason draws in a breath until his lungs are full. “Let’s go.”

~

_Stephanie slides into the booth across from him._

_The first thing he notices is the stink of menthol drifting from her hair and clothes._

_The second is the yellow bruise surrounding her left eye._

_“You saw your dad,” Tim guesses._

_“Don’t you just love this time of day?” she asks._

_“I thought you said you weren’t gonna-”_

_“It’s so peaceful.”_

_Tim sighs._

_The waitress approaches their table, looking very tired and very much done with this day. Night. Whatever. “What can I getcha?”_

_“Waffles,” Stephanie decides. “Chocolate chip. Four o’clock in the morning is the perfect time for chocolate chip waffles.”_

_“And coffee, please,” Tim adds._

_The waitress leaves._

_The jukebox flips over to a track of Willie Nelson._

Laugh with me, buddy.

Jest with me, buddy.

_“Steph.”_

_“I don’t...” She looks out the window, soft blue light on her face. She looks ragged and sad and angry and lovely. “I can’t talk about it right now.”_

If I ever need you, buddy.

_“Okay,” Tim says._

_The waitress delivers their breakfast._

_Stephanie points at him with her fork. “I bet that coffee tastes better than it would after six.”_

_“This coffee is shit.”_

_“Well yeah, but it’s_ better _shit. Everything is better before the world wakes up.”_

_“Sure,” Tim says, watching her. Wondering what he can do to help._

_There’s isn’t anything. He’s just a kid._

_But maybe, this. Just this._

_“You wanna meet up here tomorrow too?”_

_Stephanie looks at him, chewing her waffle. She blinks, and then smiles. “Yeah. I’d love that.”_

Don’t ever let me start feeling lonely.

**Author's Note:**

> [Buddy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDfLETGv28g) by Willie Nelson makes me cry every single time. If you don't know it go listen to it right meow :)


End file.
